


In Endless Feuding Perish

by voleuse



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-28
Updated: 2004-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>I can't hold you and I can't leave you.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Endless Feuding Perish

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the last year at Hogwarts, no spoilers. Title, summary, and headings adapted from _I Can't Hold You and I Can't Leave You_ by Juana Inés de la Cruz.

** _i. let me forgo you_ **

It's the fourth day back at Hogwarts, and someone's stolen Draco's wand.

He knows it's stolen because it isn't under his pillow when he wakes, there's no sign that one of the house-elves have been fluffing about while he slept, and there's a long-standing tradition that any Slytherin who dares to disturb him in the middle of the night immediately gets hexed until their eyes cross.

They must have been very glad when Draco obtained a private room, mid-sixth year.

Staying as calm as a suddenly-wandless wizard can possibly be, Draco reaches under his other pillow, ascertains the wand hasn't slipped over during the night, and that the talon he hid under it _is_.

Counting under his breath, idly, he runs a finger over the needle-sharp tip of the talon (a remnant of one of the less disastrous Care of Magical Creatures sessions) and wonders who would steal his wand, but leave him armed, as it were.

He decides, first, who would be able to access the Slytherin dormitory without being detected, and second, who would dare steal from him. It narrows the crowd down considerably. Then, he considers who would be clever enough to do so without waking him, and since those blasted Weasley twins are gone, there's only one possible culprit.

Hermione Granger.

** _ii. give my heart a defence against you_ **

"For pity's sake!"

Hermione slams the books onto the library table, for once heedless of the noise she's making, if only because she's almost alone in the library, and Draco Malfoy keeps accusing her of stealing his wand.

He folds his arms, furrows his brow in a way that would make first-years quail. "Admit it, and I won't subject you to the unspeakable horror of a Malfoy's displeasure."

"For the fifteenth time, Malfoy," Hermione hisses, "I did not steal your wand." She grabs a book from the stack and stalks past him. "And you're lucky Madam Pince isn't here."

"She'll be meeting with Dumbledore for at least another half-hour--"

"And," Hermione continues, ignoring the interruption, "it's not as if I've ever enjoyed a Malfoy's pleasure, so I'm hardly going to quiver at threat of one's displeasure, am I?"

There's a momentary respite from Draco's haranguing, but it doesn't last long. When Draco speaks again, his voice is carefully careless.

"I'm not going to address the hidden longing of that last statement, Granger," and he gestures sharply to cut off protest, "but the question still remains."

He leans forward, and Hermione thinks it would be almost comical if his body wasn't mere inches from hers.

"If you didn't take my wand, who did?"

** _iii. armed to abhor you_ **

The lost wand can be located via a complicated spell involving arithmancy, three peacock feathers, and a lock of Draco's hair, which must be performed at midnight. Or so Hermione claims.

Draco secretly believes she's going to put his hair in a locket, or some other insufferable, girlish, _Muggle_ thing, but when he opens his mouth to accuse her, she shoots him a look venomous enough to make Parseltongues take notice, so he keeps his suspicions to himself.

Further disproving his theory, however, Hermione doesn't then lead him to, say, the Astronomy Tower or the room into which Gryffindors so often disappear, but into the forest.

Specifically, the Forbidden Forest.

At night.

In the rain.

He swaggers behind her as she ventures into the forest. He stays behind her so that he can enjoy the sway of her hips under her robes, which plaster against her, weighted by the rain.

Also, if something tries to eat or maim them, she'll be the first attacked.

He is nothing, Draco thinks, if not practical.

"Of course," Hermione calls back, "if something sneaks up on us from behind, you'll be the first to go."

Draco flinches, and hopes he didn't say the first half of his thoughts aloud.

The way Hermione glances at him as he draws even with her, however, gives him cause for doubt.

** _iv. ready to adore you_ **

It's difficult, Hermione admits to herself, to completely despise someone who so obviously can't keep his eyes off her. A couple of years ago, she would have groused about Draco's interest to Ginny, but now, she can hardly fault his taste.

"What are you smirking about, Granger?" Draco asks, but he's nowhere near as hostile-sounding as he could be. It could be a result of being completely drenched, but it might not be.

"Oh, nothing," Hermione replies, breezily. Then she stops, almost stumbling, at the edge of a glade. "Absolutely nothing."

Draco walks past her, to the center of the glade, then swivels to glare at her. "This is a trick, isn't it?"

"What?"

"It was all a trick to get me alone in a glade with," he digs his toe into the ground, "really soft grass, in the middle of the forest, where nobody would ever go."

Hermione raises her eyebrows. "Why would I trick you into coming here?"

"To seduce me, of course!" Draco throws his arms wide, as if there's an audience watching their exchange. "It's obvious."

"You think I stole your wand."

"Yes."

"So that you would ask for my help to find it."

"_Demand_ that you return it, actually."

"And I would subsequently lead you into the Forbidden Forest."

"Late at night."

"Right."

"Right."

Hermione runs her hands through her hair, a futile effort to understand Slytherin logic. It doesn't work.

"You've gone completely round the bend, you know."

"Me?" Draco laughs, sharply. "I'm not the one who went to unthinkable lengths to seduce me."

She rolls her eyes. "Why? How would you seduce someone?"

And that's when Draco stalks back to Hermione, takes her face in his hands, and kisses her.

** _v. let us speak no more_ **

The rain peters to a drizzle, and then finally a light mist.

Neither of them notices, as they're too busy with each other, lips easing together, tongues tangling, hands wandering.

It's not long before their robes are unfastened. Draco shrugs his off, then pushes Hermione's off her shoulders. He nudges them clumsily with his foot, his focus still on Hermione's lips, and she draws back long enough to point her wand at the pile, whispering a spell to dry them.

They lower slowly, kneeling, then sitting, all the while managing to keep lips in contact, mouths, necks, hands, and whatever skin is exposed as collars are unbutton, fastenings undone, until only faint moonlight and distant lightning clothe them.

The night is chilly, but Draco mutters something, his breath harsh and desperate. It warms the air around them, further than their own bodies already have, and Hermione arches at the sudden change in temperature, as well as other things.

Hours might pass, but they don't notice anything but each other.

** _vi. I shall give my heart_ **

After the sun rises, they dress slowly but with purpose, distracted only when Draco spots a purpling mark on the slope of Hermione's shoulder, and insists on paying it closer attention.

That sets them back by an hour or so, until Hermione pushes Draco away with a sharp comment about being hungry.

"We're already late, you know," he replies. "The hall will be almost empty."

"Not quite yet." Hermione yanks her skirt back on, again.

"But if we wait," Draco says, running a hand lightly over her shoulder, before she swats away, "the hall _will_ empty. We could have breakfast together."

"Perhaps." Hermione glances at him sideways. "We could."

They set off for the castle, walking side to side, and perhaps more closely than they should have.

Across the glade, Crookshanks bats Draco's wand between his paws and purrs.


End file.
